


Part of Who You Are

by azuresky18



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Gallavich, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Canon, Sexual Harassment, married gallavich - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azuresky18/pseuds/azuresky18
Summary: “Curtis was a real head case from what I recall...Moods all over the place, talking a mile a minute, fucking anything that moved. The only reason anybody would ever tolerate his crazy mood swings long enough to marry him is for his dick.”Post-S10, canon compliant: On their way home from a lunch date, Ian and Mickey run into a former Fairy Tail patron. Afterward, Mickey reassures Ian that the asshole’s comments are wrong - and that Mickey loves every part of the man he married.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 10
Kudos: 185





	Part of Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: sexual harassment, brief mention of canon statutory rape of Ian (by Kash), and discussion of past sexual harassment/abuse of Ian in S4-S5. 
> 
> Basically: Ian and Mickey talk about some of the heavier topics of Ian’s trauma the show swept under the rug and never addressed again - but really needed to do in order to avoid trivializing it.
> 
> As always, thank you to MarzgaPerez for betaing and helping me write this.

Ian watches his husband eat his patty melt, consuming the damn thing like he is making love to it. He’s happy they can have random lunch dates and talk about whatever.

“No matter how many times I eat these, they never get old,” Mickey mumbles in between bites, seated across from Ian in the booth at Patsy’s Pies. “Remember how you proposed to me over these? That first proposal didn’t take, but thank fuck the second one did. Can’t believe we’ve been hitched for six months.”

“Right?” Ian smiles and takes a sip of his orange juice. “I’m just...happy you’re still in my life after all the crazy shit we’ve been through to get to this point. You stuck around and dealt with me trying to get my shit together.”

“Hey, I meant what I said, Gallagher. You ain’t gonna be able to get rid of me. You know: ‘til death do us part’? Pretty sure I’m still alive and kickin’, and so are you. Otherwise, I’m fuckin’ a dead dude and that shit’s nasty.”

At first, Ian chuckles a bit with one of the slow, ear-to-ear smiles he knows Mickey loves, before bursting out into a laugh. He reaches across the table and takes his husband’s hand, thinking about once upon a time, back when never in his wildest dreams would he be sitting like this with Mickey Milkovich. He looks down at their clasped hands as their matching wedding bands glint in the artificial light of the diner.

After they finish their last few bites of lunch, Ian and Mickey pay before heading across the street to the bodega to get barbecue Pringles, chips and dip. As they get what they need and head to the clerk to pay, the bell above the door jingles. Ian casually turns to see who just came in, but dread takes hold as he snaps his head back. He desperately hopes he’s mistaken and this guy is somebody else.

But he has always been way too good with faces. Cursing his height and bright red hair, he tries to shrink away from the middle-aged man who is now browsing the newspaper stand by the door. Mickey looks at his husband and raises one dark eyebrow quizzically but silently.

“Ummm...Mick, can we maybe get going with this stuff? Want to get home. I’m hungry,” Ian bluffs, not wanting to get into the reasons why he wants to be almost anywhere but here.

Mickey sees right through it. “Bitch, we just ate. What’re you talkin’ about? I dunno, but it sounds like bullshit. You can’t lie to me.”

He sighs, knowing he’s probably going to have to explain this later. For now, he doesn’t want to rehash old history and bad memories of the sort this unwelcome entrant brings back to mind. “Let’s just get home. Please.” The redhead tugs on the sleeve of Mickey’s shirt.

The brunet shrugs as he opens up his wallet to pay for the snacks. Their plan is for it to just be a relaxing day, since they both have the day off and little else planned besides munching on their snacks. Rather, once their stomachs are able to settle a bit after their full meal.

As they walk out, Ian looks over his shoulder, making sure the man he saw isn’t behind them. Ian knows that Mickey, who has learned a thing or two about checking to make sure he himself isn’t being followed, will likely be demanding an explanation for his behavior. They get to the crosswalk, and Ian fidgets as his husband taps his foot impatiently.

“All right. What the fuck is up with you?” Mickey asks sharply. Ian opens his mouth to answer, but instead looks at him blankly as they keep waiting for the traffic to clear. He silently wills the light to change red - but then a wolf whistle from behind them makes Mickey jump.

“Hey, gingersnap. Haven’t seen your sweet ass in years! Your name’s...Curtis, right?”

Ian grits his teeth and wishes a hole would open up and the ground would drop out from underneath him. And they’re still standing on the same goddamn side of the street. He tugs again at Mickey’s arm, but unfortunately the smaller man is already puffed out and ready for fighting words to begin being deployed.

“‘Sweet ass’? Your wrinkly ass has got no chance with him, bitch. And Curtis ain’t his name. You got the wrong guy. Now put your eyes back in your head where they belong before I knock ‘em out along with half of your teeth.”

The man puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Jesus, settle down. I didn’t mean any harm, just thinking about how much fun he and I used to have.” The old man turns to Ian. “I wouldn’t mind catching up and all, if you know what I mean. You’re still so fucking hot and I can get us a hotel room for cheap.”

Ian groans. “That was a long time ago. I don’t do that for a living anymore. I was a kid. I’m not interested now, so leave us alone. Seriously. Or we’re both going to kick your ass.”

“Kick my ass? I’d rather you fuck it. Always loved pretty ginger boys, especially with big dicks.” Ian’s face burns with embarrassment as the guy leers at his crotch. “And don’t be so sensitive. All I’m trying to do is give you a compliment. You really ought to be flattered.”

As if on cue, the man keeps rambling as Mickey looks increasingly like a volcano getting closer to erupting. “But you’ve bulked up a lot since I last saw you,” he says. “Ever thought about doing porn? They’d really love your huge cock, too.”

The next thing Ian hears is a yell as Mickey’s fist connects with the man’s face with a sickening crack. He reaches to his nose in shock and horror. Blood streams from between his fingers as he looks at them in disbelief. Ian drags Mickey away as he keeps hurling curses. People are staring and gasping, and one man is running over to give medical attention. They have to fuck off before the phones come out.

“That’ll teach you to fuck with my husband, you piece of shit! Fuck you before I give you two black eyes to go with your broken nose!” Mickey threatens. “Fuckin’ try it again!”

“Mickey! He’s not worth it!” Ian urges. “Let’s go! Let’s get out of here!”

But the old geezer doesn’t know when to shut his mouth. “You’re a psycho! And you _married_ _him_?! You two go well together, because Curtis was a real head case from what I recall,” the man says. He holds a handkerchief up to his face. “Moods all over the place, talking a mile a minute, fucking anything that moved. The only reason anybody would ever tolerate his crazy mood swings long enough to marry him is for his dick.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” Mickey screams.

“No!” Ian cries. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before someone calls the cops!”

They both take off at a run. Ian is sure the cops are going to be on their way any instant and is hoping nobody caught the assault on video. Thankfully, after running about half a mile, they don’t hear police sirens or see other signs anyone is following them. Once they reach an alley, they stop to catch their breath.

“Holy fuck,” Mickey wheezes. “This shit was a hell of a lot easier when we were younger. Remember when I decked that geriatric viagroid creeping on you? Hell, it was more than one time. If I have to beat any more dudes off you, I’m gonna start packin’ heat.”

Ian glares at him. “Thanks for the reminder, Mick. You know what? Thanks for fucking proving his point. Like I really needed it.” He angrily pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one.

“No - wait,” Mickey says. “I didn’t. Look - I didn’t mean it like that. Just forget I said anything. He don’t matter since he’s a nobody who used to perv on underage boys. Probably still does and you don’t need his creepy pedo ass in your life. You got me and I won’t let him.”

“Mickey,” Ian starts. “I don’t think you understand why I’m so upset about this. All those guys ever did was use me. Because nobody gave a shit about what I have to offer besides, ‘oh my god, your dick is so big’. Like I’m nothing else. The rest of me doesn’t matter.”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” Mickey snorts. “You gonna let what he said get to you? Think of the assholes who go to those places. Old, closeted queens who get their rocks off to ditch their wives.” He chuckles. “Least I put a ring on it, so that cock is mine now. And gimme one of those.” He reaches over and swipes Ian’s cigarettes.

“That’s what attracted you to me in the first place, isn't it? My body? My dick,” Ian says indignantly. “You're just like those other guys.”

“I’m just like those other guys, huh? Well, if you mean I think you’re fuckin’ hot...then no shit, Sherlock. Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror at all? They can talk about and look at your cock all they want. But like I said, they sure as hell will _never_ get fucked by it.”

Ian punches Mickey in the shoulder. “The fuck? Do you know how fucked-up that is? Being objectified over one stupid body part and being reduced to it sucks. But you’ve never gotten that, so you see nothing wrong with it.” 

As soon as the words exit his mouth, Ian regrets them. His husband is very attractive and sexy, and the reason he seldom gets hit on has nothing to do with Mickey’s looks. It’s because people are scared shitless to go near the man at all, much less hit on him - unless they have a death wish. Who would want to go out of their way to piss off a Milkovich?

Mickey’s blue eyes narrow as he scowls. “So I haven’t gotten it? Why’s that, bitch? Because I don’t have a big dick like you?”

“No, it’s because dudes don’t want their faces rearranged if they try. Kind of like what you _just did_? So don’t give me that bullshit, Mick. You’re being so goddamn insensitive.”

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

They walk in silence, and Ian can hear Mickey shuffling along behind him to keep up with his long strides. They throw away their cigarette butts and hop on the L. The redhead sits down next to a young woman. She looks up, startled, at the strange man who sat so close to her in spite of all the empty seats elsewhere, and presses closer to the window. Mickey grumpily takes a seat across from him.

As the two walk into the house together, they don’t say anything. Still, Ian knows Lip and Debbie, who are sitting at the dining room table, can tell something’s off - especially with the sour look on Mickey’s face. Ian heads to the fridge and sits down with a glass of milk, silently sipping it as he looks at his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his husband park himself next to Carl, who’s watching a TV show.

“Is everything okay?” Debbie asks.

“Yeah,” Ian responds. “Don’t worry about it.”

After finishing his milk, Ian picks up a book from the table before heading upstairs. He closes the bedroom door behind him and angrily thinks about how embarrassing it was for that guy to solicit him in public, and for Mickey - of all people - to make him more upset.

* * *

  
Mickey isn’t paying much attention to whatever program Carl is watching. For now, he is more concerned about the three pairs of Gallagher eyes he knows are watching him and reading the obvious awkwardness in the room.

_Goddamn it! Why do I say shit to help people feel better and end up fucking it up?! This is why talking to everybody with my fists was so much goddamn easier than this shit._

“So...spill. What’d you do to him this time, Mick?” Lip is the first to pipe up, of course.

Mickey flips him off. “I didn’t do shit to Ian, okay? So calm your tits. We were having lunch and on our way back, we ran into one of the old geezers who used to stick his hands down Ian’s shorts back when he was at the club.”

“Fuck,” Debbie says. “Then what happened? What’d he say?”

“So then he starts tryin’ to perv on Ian, like he’s that tweaked-out version of him he used to be then. Of course, I put a stop to it my way. But not before the asshole said nobody would put up with Ian’s bipolar long enough to marry him if he didn’t have a huge-ass cock.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lip curses. “I hope you decked him for that shit.”

“‘Course I did. But then Ian got mad. I tried to tell him guys are dumb as fuck and the old fuck’s a tool. That it doesn’t matter, cuz I like his dick, I married him and now nobody else can get it. And then he got pissed off at _me._ I mean, it’s not like I haven’t said something real fuckin’ similar to Ian a million times before today.”

There’s a long pause. Mickey figures he’s about to get his ass chewed out.

“Mickey,” Debbie begins. “You _do_ realize that kind of shit is exactly what women have to worry about every day of our lives, right?”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. I don’t know if Ian told you about my asshole boss at one of my old welding jobs? He called me ‘Jugs’ behind my back _and_ to my face before I realized it. I’ve gotten stupid comments walking down the street since I was about 13. Women get catcalled by straight guys so much. It’s sexual harassment.”

Mickey thinks for a second. “Yeah. I knew that was a thing, growin’ up with a sister.”

“As for Ian: he really just needs to be reminded you love him for his mind, his personality and everything else,” Debbie adds. “But I think I know what the problem is: did you _say_ that earlier, or did you just go on and on about his dick? Because if it’s the second one, I totally get why he's so pissed off at you.”

“I...I mean, I-” Mickey starts. He can’t remember.

“If you have to think about it, it means you fucked up,” Lip remarks. “I know this from dealing with women. If you don’t tell them exactly what they want to hear, they think you called them ugly and they start freaking out at you.”

Mickey facepalms as Debbie shoots Lip a death glare. “Because too many guys are so shallow and it’s a wonder we can find any decent ones to date. All men think about is sex.”

“Even gay men?” Carl speaks up.

Debbie rolls her eyes. “Gay men _are_ men, _Carl_. But yeah, Mickey. You fucked up. You of all people should know that was a fucked-up time in Ian’s life. Guys have used him for his body since he realized he’s gay, so of course that’s going to be a sore spot.”

“You’re right,” Mickey sighs. “But how do I fix this? How do I make it up to him?”

“Well, you did the right thing by calling that shit out. Now you need to apologize, say and do something really nice. Let him know you appreciate him. Let him know you’re willing to talk about the shit he went through back then. But for god’s sake, the absolute last thing you should do is jump on him for sex the second you walk into the bedroom.”

“Thanks. Figured as much out myself. But he said things, too, that made me feel shitty,” Mickey complains. “When I asked if he’d rather get no attention at all from dudes, he was like, ‘Ugh, you don’t know what it’s like to have guys obsessing over part of you they think is hot.’”

Debbie raises her eyebrows. “Ask yourself: if you were a stranger, which one would _you_ want to hit on? The guy who’s reasonably friendly to most people and looks approachable, or the pissed-off looking guy with ‘FUCK U-UP’ on his hands who looks like he’ll do exactly that?”

“Byron kinda liked me,” Mickey reminds them.

“But on a scale of one to ten, his level of regard for personal safety must’ve been...like, a negative 20. And someone had to peel him off the floor of that hipster bar anyway, so it doesn’t help your case,” Lip snickers.

“It was fuckin’ Ian who did that, not me!”

“And the other 90 times?”

“Goddamn it. Fine, you win, okay? Jesus. I’ll go upstairs and talk to him now.”

* * *

Ian has gotten through less than a chapter of his book when the door swings open. “I’m not in any mood to fuck, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” he says without looking up.

“Yeah, about that...” Mickey begins. 

When Ian finally peers over the top of what he’s reading, a sheepish-looking version of his husband is standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry about what I said. I’m sorry I haven’t been payin’ attention to other things that matter and you feel like I’m just using you for sex. I love you.”

Mickey walks into the room until he’s leaning against the wall next to the bed. Ian is relieved that he’s apologizing, but he needs him to understand how he feels. “I mean, that’s basically how we began - it was all about sex.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ian. We were just kids. I didn’t know what the hell I wanted. I don’t think I told you this, but it wasn’t _just_ about sex then. Well, it kinda was. But that’s not all. I noticed you a long time before you barged into my room with the tire iron...what, almost 10 years ago? Even before the stuff with Mandy happened.”

“Yeah?” Ian can’t believe a decade has passed, but Mickey has always been way better at math than he gives himself credit for.

“You don’t think I started hangin’ around the Kash and Grab for nothing, right? Lip was in my year at school. When I bothered to show up, I’d hear him talkin’ about his brother who wanted to go to West Point and get outta this shithole neighborhood. I thought: ‘I wish I could do that. I wish I had so much ambition - is that the right word? - to stick to goals.’ Guess you could say I was kinda jealous of you.”

“Jealous? There wasn’t much to be jealous of. Lip was always the smart one. Everyone would compare me unfavorably to him.” 

“Maybe, but you worked harder than he did. Everybody said he was so smart - he did take all my tests - but he acted like he was better than everybody else. Better than me. Like your family was so high and mighty compared to us. I thought, ‘Bitch, your old man is Frank fuckin’ Gallagher, so you got no room to talk.’ Lip pissed me off. I wanted to know _you_ cuz you worked so hard to really earn everything.”

“Really?” Ian says, surprised. “You never told me any of this before. You thought that?”

“It’s not like we did a hell of a lot of talkin’, but it didn’t take long to see I was right. There was so much more to you than you knew. I didn’t think I deserved somebody like you.”

“Mick…”

Mickey shakes his head. “If you only fuckin’ knew how hard I kept denying myself. It pissed me off so much how you were bangin’ other dudes, but I had to act like I was fag bashing. I kept fuckin’ Angie Zago. Holy fuck. And then...everything happened. I couldn’t even admit I loved you. But I did. I wanted you so goddamn much. I wished I could tell you how sorry I was.”

He wipes his eyes and looks at Ian, bright blue eyes tinged with red. “You really think all I was attracted to at first was your dick?”

“No, I don’t,” Ian admits with a shrug.

“I had no idea what size it was, or what you were like in the sack. I heard about you before I knew what _any_ part of you looked like. You think I would’ve risked my life for your dick - no matter how big it is? I came out for you!”

Ian pauses, then nods, knowing everything Mickey just said is the truth. He leans up to kiss him on the cheek, and the brunet sits down on the bed next to him. “Thank you for everything. For giving up so much for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll still never forgive myself for not being there for your first episode. I didn’t care when you couldn’t get it up cuz of your meds. I swear I didn’t - I still got to be near you. We weren’t fuckin’ and I didn’t ditch you over it. You still have the same fire inside you when you care about something. That’s what attracted me to you. Your mind; your personality.”

“But it doesn’t hurt that I’m so well-endowed.”

To Ian’s surprise, Mickey starts to laugh. “Fine! You want more proof? We never would’ve gotten back together if you didn’t care so much about what you believe in. You blew up a van, for fuck’s sake. And then I got myself thrown back in the joint - where _you_ were after you stopped takin’ your meds. So we did kinda get hitched cuz of your bipolar disorder. That viagroid asshole was so fuckin’ wrong it ain’t even funny.”

Ian takes a moment to process the things Mickey told him. This has to be the most his husband said at once in a long time. He realizes he never knew half of this in nearly a decade of knowing the man. 

_Mickey heard Lip gush about me. He admired my work ethic._ It absolutely gobsmacked him to think Ian Gallagher, the overlooked middle child, drew Mickey’s attention much earlier than he imagined.

“Mickey, why didn’t you tell me this sooner? You took interest in me based on...what Lip said about me?” He pauses. “Wow, I’m going to need to thank him later - like, a lot.”

“Never thought I had to. I’m no good with words, and you’re the one who’s all about speeches. I mean, you used to give literal sermons. Part of me wishes I didn’t cut you off when you were proposing at that bar, but we’d still be there now if I hadn’t interrupted.”

The redhead thwacks Mickey lightly on the side of his head. “You know you would’ve liked it. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

“Sure, Gallagher,” Mickey says with a little smirk. 

His expression was regretful and shamefaced when he first came upstairs. Now his blue eyes are twinkling at Ian. From where they’re sitting next to each other on the bed, the younger man pulls his husband into a hug. Ian inhales deeply into Mickey’s neck and buries his freckled fingers into strands of dark hair on the back of Mickey’s head, taking in his familiar scent.

Mickey pulls away as though he suddenly remembers something. “Hey,” he says. “I just rattled off a whole rom-com movie script at you, but I haven’t given you a chance to tell me what you’re thinkin’. About us and what that guy said today, and why it upset you.”

“Yeah,” Ian says. He scoots back on the bed until his back is resting against the wall, lower legs and feet hanging off the edge. “It brought back so many bad memories from when I thought I lost you forever. So many guys used me. I don’t remember half of it. They got their rocks off when I was too drugged to realize.”

“I know, Ian. I was there for some. I remember the night I brought you back to the house, the first time I saw you since you left for the Army. It made me so fuckin’ pissed off.”

Ian sighed. “But yeah, the comments about my body and dick started early. It didn’t happen with Roger Spikey - they didn’t call the kid “donkey dick” for nothing, so he didn’t say anything. But Kash made a huge deal. He was like, ‘You probably aren’t even done growing yet.’ What a disgusting thing to say to a literal child. And don’t even get me started on Ned.”

“Fuckin’ gross.” Mickey cringes. “Chalk it up as more shit I didn’t need to know.”

“Right? It didn’t bother me at the time, but I didn’t know better. And I didn’t know it would be only the beginning. When I worked at the Fairy Tail, I heard comments like what the guy said today on a nightly basis. So many guys asked to touch my cock, and then if I said ‘no,’ they grabbed it anyway. It’s not like those little gold shorts hid much. When I was drugged up, I thought it was hot. I loved all the attention I got.”

“Jesus Christ, Ian.”

“It would have been okay if I did it voluntarily. I can see the appeal. I get why people are sex workers and there’s nothing wrong with that...as long as they choose and aren’t forced into it. And yeah, sometimes I liked being told I had the nicest cock they’d ever seen. But the porno? I was manic, so I thought nothing of it. They took one look at my dick and practically drooled. That’s why it upset me when the dude today said I ought to go into porn. He can fuck off. He took me right back to five years ago.”

“That isn’t you anymore,” Mickey reminds him.

“I know. But it took me so long to finally get my shit together. And then when I lost you and Monica one after the other, it happened again. I was raising money to turn an old church into a shelter for LGBTQ kids. One of our possible benefactors ended up being a dude who used to come to the Fairy Tail.”

“Fuck,” Mickey says. He whistles. “You never told me. Was this around the same time you stopped taking your meds?”

“Yeah,” continues Ian. “I knew he was married and I could use my body to make people do whatever I wanted. So I tried to blackmail him. It didn’t work, because the dude was bi. His wife knew. He asked me to do stuff with him and his wife in exchange for the funding. There were thousands at stake, so I did it. In the end it didn’t even matter, since Fiona took over the building before we were even able to use it.”

A long pause follows. Mickey’s facial expression alternates between looking like he wants to punch somebody else in the face, and wanting to hug Ian and never let go of him.

* * *

  
The brunet sits quietly on the bed. He saw how guys treated Ian at the Fairy Tail, but Mickey had no control over whatever happened when he wasn’t there. He didn’t pressure Ian to talk. More to the point: Mickey didn’t ask because he didn’t _want_ to know. This is the first he’s heard about any of this church business, either.

“Holy shit. This is...a lot,” he finally says. “But you know what? I’m glad you didn’t tell me all this then, cuz I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Probably would’ve gone off on a bender and disappeared, and then what would’ve happened? I couldn’t help you as it was.”

“Well, none of these were my finest moments. And after telling you ‘this wasn’t me anymore’ at the fucking border, I fell back down the rabbit hole. And you saved me, Mick. You’ve always saved me.” Ian’s eyes fill with tears. “You’ve always been it for me. I’m sorry I accused you of only being attracted to me for my dick. But that asshole triggered so much shit I never properly dealt with because I buried it.”

Mickey presses his lips to Ian’s in a soft kiss. When they separate, Mickey asks, “Hey, just so we’re clear: you don’t mind it when I tell you what I like about your body, right? It just kinda threw me for a loop when you got so pissed at me today, since I’ve always done so. But if you don’t want me to do it again, I won’t.”

“You can do it. It’s fine,” Ian replies. “I mean, in almost ten years you’ve talked more about how I look than everyone else combined. It’s _different_ when it’s you, because I’ve only ever loved you. Usually I think it’s hot. But your timing today really, really sucked ass, Mick.”

“Sorry, man. If you want, I can make it up by telling you what else I really like.”

“Go for it.”

Mickey moves their bodies so they’re lying next to each other before pulling the blanket up. He cradles his husband’s flame-haired head in his hands before smelling his shampoo. “Love your hair color...I almost died when I saw you in the joint. First time in a year and a fuckin’ half, and your head was dipped in tar.”

Both men giggle. “I hated it, too,” Ian says.

“Yeah, well, you’ll always be Firecrotch to me.” He blows lightly on some of the long ginger strands. “Looks good when you grow it out. Oh, and know what I like the most?”

Mickey takes one of Ian’s large hands and begins peppering the little brown dots on them with soft kisses. There are so many freckles on Ian’s whole body, and Mickey loves every one of them. He works his way up Ian’s arm until he reaches his broad shoulders, massaging them to feel the firm muscle underneath the skin.

“You have so many fuckin’ freckles, and they’re my favorite thing about you. Really. Your freckles and your pale skin. They look good with your hair. Not gonna lie: I was so goddamn happy when I ran into you the first time at school and saw you were a fuckin’ ginger.”

“Glad to hear I exceeded your expectations,” Ian says with a laugh. “I guess you can thank Clayton, since I look just like him. That reminds me: the first time Lip accidentally walked in on me jerking off, he said I must have taken all the good genes in the family.” 

“The fuck? Is that like takin’ all the clean towels in the bathroom?”

“Then, after we found out I’m not really Frank’s biological kid, he started blaming Clayton for hogging them all.”

Ian and Mickey burst out into fits of laughter and don’t stop until their sides are hurting. Once they can breathe again, Ian says, “Anyway, I’m really glad we finally talked about this.”

“Me too, Gallagher.”

“Oh, and I should add…” Ian lifts the blanket up. “Maybe we should do something about this? I mean, it makes sense it’d show interest with how much it’s been talked about today.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“Hmm?”

Mickey chuckles. “You know what, Gallagher? Maybe I’m not done tellin’ you everything I like about you. Gotta prove I didn’t marry you for one thing. I love all of you, dick included. Because it’s part of who you are. All of it is.”

“I’ll remind you how much of a big deal you made _all day,”_ Ian teases Mickey. “You were all, ‘It’s miiiine, it’s mine!’” He stops. “But do you want to right now? If not, it’s okay.”

Mickey looks at Ian like he asked if the Milkovich house has any unregistered guns.

“The fuck kinda stupid question is that?!”


End file.
